Читать книгу Her Rocky Mountain Hero - Jen Bokal - Страница 14

Chapter 5

Viktoria drove into the relentlessly falling snow. The headlights cut a swath through the flakes, creating a tunnel of white surrounded by blackness. The tires slid on the slick roads, forcing her to steer cautiously into each turn. Inevitably, the SUV’s rear fishtailed. It gave the impression that she was hurtling uncontrollably through space, and the effect left her slightly sick to her stomach.

“Turn here,” Cody said, pointing to the left.

She exited the road in the direction he indicated. The SUV slowed as the tires sank into several inches of snow. They entered a makeshift parking lot, meant to accommodate only a dozen cars for cross-country skiers in the winter or hikers in the summer.

On this night, the lot was empty. Almost. A forest green, four-door Range Rover sat alone near a cut-through in a snowbank. The pricey British vehicle gave her pause.

“I thought you said you drove a truck,” she said of the Range Rover. “Every truck I’ve ever seen had a rear bed and was covered in rust and primer.”

“Ah, spoken like a true New Yorker.” Cody grinned as he reached over to hit the ignition button. The SUV’s engine shuddered once and stilled. “My boss is a Brit and as far as he’s concerned, this is a truck. Me, I’m a good old Colorado boy at heart, and primer is one of my favorite colors. But since Ian pays for this ride and I get to drive it for free, I call it whatever he wants me to. Although I do have a personal vehicle—a real truck, no rust or primer—back at my house.”

Primer was his favorite color. Viktoria almost felt a smile pull up the corners of her mouth. Then she thought about Gregory, alone and afraid. She couldn’t let anything distract her from finding her son, even Cody Samuels.

Cody opened his door and jumped down. “Let’s go.”

Viktoria hopped down from the SUV and her feet sank into the snow. Cold, wet flakes sifted over the tops of her boots and soaked her fleece pajama bottoms. Cody conducted himself with such confidence that Viktoria found her spirits buoyed. But she still had no idea what she would do if—no, not if, when—she was reunited with her son. How would she be able to escape the long reach of the Mateevs a second time? Would it be enough to disappear and drop off the grid as she had before?

Cody used his key fob to unlock the Range Rover’s doors and start the engine. As if he were attuned to her thoughts, he broke the silence by asking, “How long have you been living in the cabin?”

“Two months. We left New York in August and moved around for six weeks before I decided we needed to find one place to stay.”

“Why did you leave New York?” Cody asked, his gaze trained on her face.

Viktoria got the impression that she was being tested and that somehow Cody’s knowledge of her life went beyond his having investigated her late husband’s family. Still, she had nothing to lose by telling the truth.

“The state of New York had moved to terminate my parental rights. I suspect that Belkin had manipulated the system on behalf of Nikolai Mateev. They had a video of Gregory sitting in our apartment and crying—it went on for hours. In it, I was asleep on the sofa with an empty bottle of vodka cradled in my arms. The whole thing was a fake. I don’t drink. I’ve never left my son alone for minutes...” She shook her head; the dismay and dread from being set up came back to her. “It almost worked and I ran before the courts could take Gregory from me. There was money after my husband’s death, some more in savings and I knew it could last us awhile. I sold my Mercedes for cash and bought a clunker.”

Cody regarded her with those intense and otherworldly eyes.

“Go on,” he urged.

She continued, as if she wasn’t captivated by his gaze. “I paid cash for the cabin rental, October to March. The utilities were included. When I first arrived, I hired a delivery service for our groceries and paid them in cash. I only used the cabin’s landline phone that was there for emergencies,” she said, covering the basics. “But there was nobody I dared to call. We never went into town. Until today, that is. I have no idea how they found me, though.”

“Your image was picked up on a traffic camera,” Cody said.

It made sense. “Is that how the sheriff knew to call Belkin?”

“Probably.”

“Probably is hardly an answer.”

Cody exhaled, his breath a frozen cloud. “Let’s get out of here. We aren’t being productive just standing in the snow.”

He opened the passenger door of his Range Rover. Bright light spilled over the snow and bathed Cody in its glow. He was breathtakingly handsome. Was she a bad mother for noticing the dimple on his cheek or his broad shoulders? He was hot—it was more fact than opinion. Like the fact that it was snowing, or that the date was December the twenty-third or that her son had just been kidnapped.

The last thought brought her down to reality and left her weak and light-headed. She clung to the side of the Range Rover.

“Are you okay?” Cody scooped his hand under her elbow, lifting with just enough pressure to keep her from crumpling into the snow.

Viktoria had to get a hold of herself. She’d never do Gregory any good if she continued to be so weak. “Yes,” she said. Standing straight, Viktoria rolled back her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” said Cody hesitantly. “If you’re sure, jump in.”

“Where are we going?”

“To see the sheriff.”

“I thought you said that he helped Belkin find me. Why would we go to him for help now?”

“Because we need something he has.”

Viktoria couldn’t imagine a crooked sheriff having anything she wanted, much less needed. “And what’s that?”

“Information about the people who took your son.”

* * *

This time, Cody took the wheel. He should have been problem solving—analyzing the attack on the cabin, the kidnapping and exactly how to save Gregory. Instead he was thinking about Viktoria. She’d been honest with him about the court case against her in New York. In truth, her version of the story had shone a new light on the few facts he’d been given.

Dark shadows ringed her eyes and cords of muscle stood out on her neck. As if her body spoke to him, he imagined that he heard stories of her strength—both physical and emotional—and her weariness from the fight. Cody admired her spirit. He might even like her personally.

It brought him back to their ultimate destination, the sheriff’s office, and more important, the reason behind their visit there. Cody had worked with Ray Benjamin in the past and found him to be a competent and trustworthy guy. How could he have been taken in by a dirty scheme? He tried to think of another possible way Belkin could have located Viktoria. He couldn’t come up with anything else that was even remotely plausible, especially when he considered that the deputies had been a no-show this evening.

The county office complex came into view and Cody eased the Range Rover off the road and into the snow-filled parking lot. Industrial lights on tall poles illuminated the campus of five buildings. The Sheriff’s office, squat and made of red brick, sat at the back of the property. Four black-and-white cruisers waited in a line near the front door, but Cody knew that at this hour the office would be empty—only a few deputies were out on patrol with the rest on call in case they were needed. The county’s emergency services were handled at a call center on the opposite side of town.

Near the rear entrance to the building sat a silver pickup, which he recognized as belonging to the sheriff. Several inches of white powder covered the roof, the hood and filled the rear bed. Ray Benjamin staying at the office late and alone only fanned the flames of Cody’s suspicions. He steered into what might have been a parking place, but was too covered with snow for him to tell, and cut the ignition.

“Before tonight, I would have said that Sheriff Benjamin was a good guy,” said Cody, ending the interminable silence.

“But you’re convinced he had something to do with Peter Belkin finding me and taking Gregory.”

“There’s no other explanation,” he said. The words tasted sour on his tongue. It brought back all the times he had trusted people only to be betrayed. The DEA. His former fiancée. His parents. His sister.

“Then he’s not a good guy,” said Viktoria.

“Like I said, I’m surprised.”

“You mean you’re wrong.”

Cody shook his head. “I’m never wrong.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Viktoria. She folded her arms over her chest, her chin jutting out just a bit.

“We know your son hasn’t been taken from the area yet. But Colorado is a big state and if we’re going to find him we have to know where to look.” More than the risk, Cody wanted to ask Benjamin why he’d done it.

As a child, Cody had been too young to demand better from his alcoholic parents. In the intervening years, he’d grown beyond the hurt that came with betrayal. Or so he thought. But when the DEA—an agency to whom he had dedicated his life—cut him loose, Cody was again filled with rage so vile it poisoned his life. Even now, sitting in the silent truck, Cody knew that facing Sheriff Benjamin was far from an actual cure for his lack of trust. And yet, he could do nothing else.

“It’s a calculated risk,” said Cody at length.

Viktoria exhaled, her shoulders sagged. “Everything is a gamble, I guess. Do you really think that he’ll simply tell us where Gregory’s being held?”

“Nothing about this case is simple, and finding your son will be no exception. But we need the truth, and I won’t let Ray Benjamin lie to me a second time.”

He slammed the Range Rover door shut and Viktoria exited from the passenger side. As they approached the rear entrance to the sheriff’s office, the door swung open. Ray Benjamin stood on the threshold. He wore his khaki sheriff’s uniform, but the name tag over the left breast pocket had been removed. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face. His cheeks were ruddy and his dark brown hair was mussed. He stared into the night with red-tinted eyes and the medicinal scent of whiskey rolled off him in a wave.

“I saw you in the monitor.” He pointed to a black security camera bolted to the side of the building. “Thought you might show up.”

“We need to talk,” Cody said.

“Thought you might say that, too.” Benjamin stepped back from the door. “Come on in.”

Viktoria stood close to Cody, her shoulder pressed into his arm. He slipped a protective hand around her back, connecting them and making them a single unit against whatever—or whomever—waited inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed above a white-paneled corridor. Industrial carpet of basic brown padded their footfalls.

Ray Benjamin had preceded them and his office door stood open. Cody paused in the corridor, every muscle tense. He moved his hand to the holster on his hip and unfastened the safety snap. His palm rested on the Glock.

Sheriff Benjamin poked his head around the office door, a drunken gofer. “Come on in,” he said, “I’m alone and you’re right, we need to talk.”

Cody placed his mouth next to Viktoria’s ear. “I’m going in first,” he whispered. “If anything goes wrong—run.”

He pressed the Range Rover’s key into Viktoria’s hand. She twined her fingers through his. Their gazes met and held. The moment ended with the clink of ice on glass from inside the office.

“Can I pour you a drink, Cody? One for your lady friend? I assume this is the elusive Viktoria Mateev.” Sheriff Benjamin continued. “We can toast the holiday season.”

Cody figured that if anyone was in the building besides the sheriff, they would have attacked already. Besides, Benjamin wouldn’t be drinking so carelessly if he had company. Cody stepped into the office. A single desk lamp did little to illuminate the room, its glow a spotlight on a glass filled with amber liquid and a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Cody nodded to Viktoria, who crossed the threshold into the alcohol-fumed space.